


The Overnight Shift

by anonymintea



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Bubbline, F/F, One Shot, Target AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 18:11:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymintea/pseuds/anonymintea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marceline hates working the overnight shift at Target. She hates the hours. She hates the work. But above all, she despises her manager, Bonnibel, and how she always walks around like she's royalty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Overnight Shift

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by laurenzuke's art on Tumblr, in which Marceline and Bonnie meet during their first overnight shift at Target. (Possibly more to come? I don't know yet.)

Marceline hated working in toys. Groceries were fine. Electronics, she could handle. Even the seasonal aisles that sometimes got too crazy around the holidays, whatever. But the toy aisles made her want to kill herself. 

Every single thing beeped, or squeaked, or honked, or cried, or made some kind of obnoxious noise. Were there no such thing as toys that didn't make sound anymore? A baby doll that didn't cry and shit its pants realistically? A miniature car that didn't have a working engine that revved up every time you touched it? At first, it was only mildly irritating, but if she stuck around long enough she would get to the point where she just wanted to lay down on the floor and cry.

Then there were the toys themselves. If she had been suicidal, she might have taken her box knife and driven it into her eyes the first time she opened a brand new box of One Direction Barbie dolls. Putting them out on the shelf pained her. Seeing people buy them made her vomit in her mouth.

Honestly, the sheer amount of corporate bullshit in those aisles disgusted her. If she could have one wish, she would burn them down and watch the plastic dolls melt and their eyes cave in on themselves and their synthetic hair fuse to their bodies. She would set the Legos and Hot Wheels up in flames and watch them burn in a fire so hot it would torch half the building. No, hate wasn't a strong enough word for what she felt. It was utter loathing.

Marceline scowled and ripped open another box of Avengers paraphernalia. The job itself also sucked ass. The overnight shift started at 4 am and went until 10 in the morning, which seriously hampered all of her nighttime plans. She was a late night kind of person, but working that early in the morning meant she had to get to bed early, or just stay up all night. Not to mention the work was totally mind-numbing. It obviously did not even require a high school education. All she did all night was open boxes. Put the thing on the shelf. Repeat.

She pulled a few boxes of the Avengers stuff off the flat and carried it down the aisle where it belonged. The Captain America shields were on the bottom shelf and she dropped down to her knees and began unpacking them, absorbed in her own thoughts, when a slight pressure on her shoulder made her jump. She fell back onto her butt and looked up, taken by surprise, into the cool gaze of the Leader on Duty.

That was the aspect of her job that Marceline despised more than the rest of them combined. She knew she kept being assigned to toys, day after day, on purpose. She knew that this was out of spite. And it made her hate this place even more. It was no accident that for the past five days, she had been in charge of unpacking My Little Pony figurines. It was all because of Bonnibel.

“Hey Marceline,” she said, a small smile twitching the corners of mouth upward, probably amused that she had caught Marceline off guard.

Marceline scowled. That little bitch walked around like she was a fucking princess, ordering everyone around. Some people really liked her, but Marceline saw right through her little act. She could pretend to be as sweet and sugary as she wanted, but deep down she was just another one of those power hungry corporate wenches.

“Hey Princess,” Marceline retorted, pushing herself off of her humiliating position on the floor.

And boy, did the power sure go to Bonnibel's head. She was always going on about “responsibilities” and “duties” and never giving anyone a fucking break, acting all emotionless.

Marceline hadn't been working at Target for very long. They had hired her as seasonal help, and she was only a few weeks into the job. She learned very quickly to be wary of what she did when Bonnibel was around. The Leader on Duty had already fired several people for idiotic things, and reprimanded dozens more. She seemed to have latched on to Marceline early on, constantly checking up on her for no reason and spending an inordinate amount of time “observing” her work.

Marceline guessed Bonnie had some kind of personal vendetta against her and was just trying to find an excuse to terminate her. Marceline wasn't exactly trying to hard to _not_ get fired. She tried to hold her tongue around Bonnie, but she couldn't help it. She just lost her temper around that girl.

The smile dropped clean off of Bonnie's face. Her eyes narrowed. “I told you to stop calling me Princess,” she responded, her voice calm and collected.

Marceline knew she was playing a dangerous game. Hell, she would have loved to give Bonnibel a piece of her mind. But Bonnie made the schedule, granted days requested off, and assigned everyone's daily tasks. She could only piss her off so much before she started taking revenge in other ways, besides just making Marceline do the job she hated most.

But the words came out without thought.

“I'll stop calling you Princess when you stop acting like one, Princess,” she answered, hoisting herself up so she was level to the Team Leader's eyes.

There was no way that Bonnibel was going to let that go. A brief flash of anger crossed her face, her eyes narrowing and her lips tightening together. She took in a sharp breath like she was about to make a hateful reply, but then she stopped. Exhaled. And another one of those, cool, sweet smiles took its place.

“Fine,” Bonnibel said, stepping a little bit closer to Marceline. Her smile widened, coyly. “You can call me Princess.”

Marceline's head snapped up in surprise. That was unexpected. Bonnibel couldn't just be giving up. She was too power hungry to let Marceline have this small victory over her, stupid as it was. Marceline swallowed thickly, not sure what was coming next. Bonnie's face inched closer to her own.

“You can call me Princess, if you start treating me like one,” Bonnibel finished, a smug gleam in her eyes. Marceline didn't know what to say. She stood there, dumbstruck, unable to look away from Bonnie's eyes, her lips, so close to her own. What was happening? What was going on?

Was Bonnie...

Was Bonnibel hitting on her?

Instinctively, Marceline took a wary step back. “I, uh,” she stammered, unable to form the words she needed to escape. “Um, Bonnie, uh-”

Bonnibel's eyes widened. Marceline couldn't tell if the surprise was real or feigned. “'Bonnie', hmm? Does that mean I'm not your princess anymore?” she whispered, almost seductively.

Marceline's blush was fierce. She broke Bonnibel's gaze, casting her eyes toward the floor, unable to stop the fire from engulfing her cheeks. Holy fucking shit. Marceline opened her mouth to say something, and not knowing what to say, closed it again.

She watched almost in slow motion as Bonnie reached for her hand. Marceline's hands were shaking, and she wanted to pull away, but Bonnibel had already clasped her right hand. The seconds ticked by in agony. Her hands were limp and hot and sweaty, but Bonnie's were cool to the touch.

Ever so slowly, Bonnie raised Marceline's hand to her lips. It was all Marceline could do to stare open mouthed as her manager placed a small kiss on her knuckles, candy pink lips slightly parted and oh so hot. With her lips on Marceline's fingers, Bonnie glanced up into Marceline's eyes through thick, long lashes, practically purring and oozing sexuality.

Marceline was pretty sure she started to hyperventilate at that point. Fortunately, Bonnibel had finished her games. She curled Marceline's fingers around her palm and gave it a quick squeeze before letting go. Marceline's hand swung unceremoniously back down to her side, while she stuttered and stared wide-eyed at the Leader on Duty.

“You left your name tag in the break room. I just stopped by to return it to you,” Bonnie explained, her voice once again business-like and emotionless as she straightened up. Confused and dazed, Marceline mutely looked down at her hand and slowly opened it. Her fingers were curled around her Target name tag.

“Uh...” A million emotions surged through her, rage and confusion and humiliation and desire. Marceline was unable to settle on one. Heart pounding, still dumbstruck, she finally managed to choke out, “Bonnie, what the hell?”

Bonnibel smiled coyly and shook her head, insisting, “Call me Princess.”


End file.
